Sleeping Easier
by keyblader41996
Summary: A few years after their death, Ezio Auditore reflects on his family with Claudia.


This is a small one-shot featuring the thoughts of Ezio Auditore a few years after his family's death. Enjoy!

I had this story written for a while, posted on DeviantArt under my sister's profile, Brynhildr13. I was really hesitant to post here on but in the spirit of Assassin's Creed: Unity, I've been empowered to overcome my fear!

* * *

I see them there, up on the gallows. _Il meo Padre_ stands tall; dignified, undaunted, steeled, even in the face of despair and terrible circumstance. Federico glares accusingly at the crowd against their slings and jeers and insults as though he could retaliate with his gaze. The fire of vengeance burns passionately in his eyes. He also stands tall. It's Petruccio that gets to me. It's always Petruccio. No pretense of bravery, hunched over, his pale face even paler when faced with the realization of what is to happen. Pigeon-toed, whole body sweating, knees trembling. Poor, sickly Petruccio, about to die for no reason. My own knees feel weak, and then I see who is announcing their execution. I choke down my horrified cry and break for the stage, but my legs feel heavy. I'm trying to run to them, to force my way to them to save them, but the crowd holds me back. They grab at my clothes and hood; they drag me away from my family.

I slide the hidden blades form my sleeves and start slashing wildly, cutting at the people around me. A hand grabs me firmly by the shoulder and I tear around, driving the blade straight into his throat. Blood spurts out and colors my vests and spatters my face. But it can't bother me. I've got to get to my family. A civilian tries to wrap me in a bear hug. I wiggle out of his grip to shove the blade into his heart. Guards grab at my ankles and wrists, my hood is ripped down, and my robes tear under grips. Left and right their expressions turn to shock in the corners of my vision when my blades stick into them. But they don't fall. None of them do. More and more people mob around me, suffocating me, trapping me.

They continue to grab at me and pull me away. My slashes grow leaden, my arms heavy from the weight of ten men's hands. Time slows down and as hard as I try, as much power as I try to generate behind my killing strokes, they are weak and powerless. Before too long I cannot move. I scream, I wail, but that's all I can do. They move to the lever and pull.

My family drops before my eyes. _Snap-_

I shoot awake to the sound of my own scream.

"_Padre!_"

For a terrifying moment I forget where I am, panting like a dog in the dark. I look around desperately, see the portraits on the walls and my familiar desk, and I remember that I'm in my room, the attic of the _Villa_.

Footsteps are climbing the ladder quickly, and before I can react a face pops up.

"Claudia!" I say. She looks very concerned. I try to calm my breathing but I must be a mess. I can see she isn't fooled.

"_Cosa c'é di sbagliato?!_ Are you alright, Ezio? You were screaming!"

I can't answer her. Not right away. The dream is over but every time I have it it always cuts me deep, reopens wounds I'd rather leave un-festered. My gaze travels back to hers and her face softens.

"Another dream? About them?"

I only nod. She puts the candlestick she carried up on the floor and scales the rest of the ladder, crossing the room and sitting on the very edge of my bed. For a while, she doesn't speak. I search her face, expecting her to say something. To try and console me like she always does. Tell me it wasn't my fault despite my lack of reaction. Despite the fact that I did nothing to help them. That I was powerless, and naïve, and _afraid._

Scared. I was scared.

And it was too late that I learned how to face down and conquer those fears. The vengeance and passion in my heart were satisfied. My soul was not. They were dead because of me.

All she says is, "Oh, Ezio." She wraps her arms around around me and no words are necessary. I hug the only family member I have left. The only one who hasn't been lost to her grief, the one strong enough to not let her guilt consume her. One of the reasons why I sought the way to suppress my own fear and feelings. Why I chose to don the hood.

She rests her chin on my shoulder and says, "He wouldn't blame you, Ezio. He'd be proud of the man you've become. They all would be."

I wonder how she knew to say that when I never voiced any of my thoughts to her, or ANYONE for that matter. She only ever said generic things like it wasn't my fault, or that everything would be okay.

"I miss them too," she continues. "But we can't bring them back. And I know they definitely would NOT want to see you with this plague you have. This _malattia_. Instead, they'd be so proud, Ezio. So proud."

Everything she's saying is like a breath of fresh air. It touches me deeply. Her words _felt_ true to me, even though I knew in my heart they were the words I needed to hear. Just hearing someone else confirm it put me at such ease.

Even so, I try to hide my shock with a joke.

"You know," I say, "isn't it the job of the big brother to comfort the little sister?" I poke her softly in the side, a place I know she hates. She laughs lightly and shoves my hand away. "This could ruin my good reputation if word gets out about this. Ezio Auditore, _Assassino Famoso_, floored by bad dreams and cared for by his _sorella!_ I'd be humiliated! The laughing-stock of the Brotherhood AND the Templars!"

She laughs again. "Well, if you're making jokes again, I know you're alright. Get some sleep, _fratello_."

She stands up, grabs the candlestick, and leaves without another word.

Her words appease me, though. They sort of put a soothing salve on the sunburn that was my guilt after these few years. The sting is still there- it will always be there. But it will be a little easier to bear.

_Padre_ would be proud. . . Federico and Petruccio would forgive me. With that in my heart I can close my eyes and sleep a bit easier.


End file.
